


Rise

by Evenmoor



Series: Methos, Master of the Force [11]
Category: Highlander - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker
Genre: Families of Choice, Force Ghost(s), Gen, The Dark Side of the Force, from a certain point of view
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24198676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenmoor/pseuds/Evenmoor
Summary: Methos, performing one last mission as a Jedi, has joined the galaxy's final defense against the Dark Side at Exegol.
Series: Methos, Master of the Force [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/571000
Kudos: 28





	Rise

“I’ve lost all control! We’re going down!”

In the seat next to Methos, Suni gripped her helm controls in a futile gesture as _Par’jila_ fell down, down, down. Methos instinctively threw up a hand as a power conduit spat a shower of sparks towards him. 

All around them, the other ships dropped in similarly helpless fashion, their systems overloaded by the grip of the Dark Side. The lightning rippled jaggedly across the skies, practically suffocating everything it touched.

Suni stared at Methos, her dark brown-gold eyes blown wide not with fear but with defiance. 

“ _Ba’buir_ ,” her lips formed, but he couldn’t hear her voice over the shrieking of the falling ship. Maybe this was it. He reached out a sweaty hand to hers and gripped it tightly. He knew that she didn't regret answering the call with him to one last battle against the Sith. She was Mandalorian, after all. Inside, a sense of peace stirred. If this was the end, then _what an end_.

Then amidst the overwhelming chaos and fear and feeling of inevitability, Methos heard something. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t actually hearing it at all, however. Not with his ears. A faint and distant plea, barely a whisper, a mere candle flame in the stifling Darkness, coming from somewhere both within and without. 

_Be with me._

_Be with me._

_Be with me…_

His awareness shifted. No longer was he at the weapons controls of a doomed ship. He stood - or at least his spirit stood - on the cursed planet below. Looking upwards, he could see innumerable ships, including _Par’jila_ , trapped in the relentless grip of the Dark Side. In front of him, however, sat Palpatine, that cockroach, revealed in all his glory, basking on his throne in vast the power at his call as he recklessly shot lightning at the impotent fleet above. 

On the ground, the source of the plea: a lone human woman laid out on the cold stone, weak and just as helpless as the collective power of the entire galaxy against the might of the Dark Side. 

But she was not alone.

A giddy excitement rushed through Methos as he recognized the glowing form kneeling next to her, though it wavered between the appearance of a young man and a wizened elder. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master, locked eyes with Methos and gave him that knowing smirk he so favored during the Clone Wars, the one that had irritated both allies and enemies. Then Obi-Wan leaned towards the girl’s ear and spoke.

“These are your final steps, Rey. Rise and take them.”

Even as the words left his lips, other spectral forms appeared, surrounding the girl on the ground. On her other side, Anakin Skywalker - looking like the Jedi Knight he once had been - knelt and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Rey.”

Ahsoka Tano stood between Anakin and Obi-Wan, behind Rey’s head. Was she dead, too, or had her spirit answered the call as Methos had, leaving behind her body somewhere out there?

“Rey.”

The entire expansive area seemed to fill with luminous beings. The rational part of Methos wondered how they didn’t cast their light everywhere, why it all remained so gloomy, punctuated only by the crackle of lightning.

“Rey,” prompted the man who had once been a painfully enthusiastic padawan named Caleb Dume.

Anakin gazed down at the young woman laying still on the ground before them.

“Bring back the balance Rey. As I did,” he urged her. 

Luminara Unduli, her expression simultaneously peaceful and intense, stepped forth.

“In the light. Find the light, Rey.”

The young woman’s eyes flickered, staring upwards, apparently not seeing the multitude surrounding her. Mace Windu emerged, standing between Rey and Palpatine, his gaze fixed on the former Emperor. 

“You are not alone, Rey.”

“Alone, never have you been,” agreed Yoda. The old troll fit between Anakin and Ahsoka, laying his clawed fingers gently on Rey’s forehead. Methos felt a hand on his own shoulder and looked up to realize Qui-Gon Jinn stood next to him. 

“Every Jedi who ever lived lives in you,” Qui-Gon said softly to Rey, his voice a comforting rumble. Methos’s spirit lifted to hear it once again. _How long had it been…?_

“The Force surrounds you, Rey." Anakin’s voice was quiet but firm.

“Let it guide you,” whispered the soft accents of Aayla Secura. 

“As it guided us,” finished Ahsoka. 

Mace Windu spoke again, still facing Palpatine, who remained oblivious to the massive ghostly conclave that had gathered.

“Feel the Force flowing through you, Rey.”

"Let it lift you,” Anakin murmured, for once in whole-hearted and solemn agreement with Mace. It would’ve been funny to Methos if it weren’t for the Sith Lord in the room.

“Rise, Rey,” came the voice of Adi Gallia from the crowd of glowing figures.

“We stand behind you, Rey,” Qui-Gon said. So many of the Jedi seemed to glow brighter, gaining definition in defiance of the darkness. How did they all fit in this space, vast though it was? Their names rose in Methos’s mind, even the ones he never knew. They were all here, all of them, all the Jedi. 

Even Methos himself.

Rey finally moved, struggling to stand, but so very, very weak. The Jedi surrounding her supported her as she made it to her knees and urged her to rise.

Luke Skywalker stood next to his father and gripped Rey’s arm firmly.

“Rey, the Force will be with you, always.”

Determination and decision hardened her expression as she reached out with the Force and called a fallen lightsaber to her. As she did so, every Jedi stood with her and faced Palpatine, who finally seemed to notice that something had gone awry with his final triumph. 

Palpatine rose to his feet, his expression twisted in fury.

“Let your death be the final word in the story of rebellion,” he pronounced. As he spoke, a legion of warriors sprang up around him, composed of shadow and smoke. Each wielded a blood-red lightsaber. As they raised their weapons, however, Methos realized that he, too, held a saber in his hand. To his bemusement, it appeared to be the very first lightsaber he’d ever built; it had been destroyed long, long ago. The Jedi also drew their own lightsabers and surrounded Rey, facing outward in a defensive barrier of riotous color. 

Palpatine loosed a powerful blast of lightning towards Rey, signaling the charge of his shadowy legion. Material time seemed to slow down around the ghostly forces; even as the young woman blocked his strike with the lightsaber in her hand, the shadow-Sith swarmed around her spectral defenders. 

Anakin and his son stood side by side, powerful parries blocking every strike; Ahsoka a whirlwind of defensive light and Obi-Wan an impenetrable wall. One shadow-Sith tried to separate Caleb Dume from the rest, but Depa Billaba stopped its attack cold. As her lightsaber passed through it, it shrieked, dissolving into smoke, and then nothingness. River (and Methos’s heart clenched to see his fellow Immortal once more, even in this state) did not remain still, but danced among her fellows, her lightsaber little more than a blur as she bent and swayed like a reed.

The shadows seemed to swell in number, the darkness growing deeper, but the spirits of the Jedi stood firm in their semi-circle around Rey. 

One of the wraiths raised its weapon - a vibrosword made of shadow - at Methos. Methos parried the blow, parry, parry, parry, block, then a sword-lock. At the last moment, he slid to the side before the creature’s hidden knife hit home. Trying to use his own tricks against him, was it? Drawing on all his strength, he forced it back. As he did so, the shadows seemed to fall away a bit, and he realized that it wore a mask. A very familiar mask. 

His own.

“Darth Mortem.” 

Dark smoke poured away, and Methos’s own face stared back at him. 

“You and the Light are feeble against the might of the Dark Side! That is why the Jedi fell! That is why the galaxy will fall again!”

“Bit premature. You haven’t won _yet_.”

“You know the power of the Dark Side. Why do you fight at the side of these pathetic weaklings? They’re already dead.”

“Because I’m not an idiot. You’re right, I do know the power of the Dark Side. And that’s why I feel perfectly comfortable in telling you to _sod off_!”

“I am a part of you. You cannot deny me,” taunted his shadowy mirror.

“Of course I can deny you. I can deny you all day long and well into tomorrow,” Methos retorted, not lowering his guard. “You said it yourself, you’re a part of _me_ , not the other way around. There’s darkness in all of us. Some more than others. But everyday I make the choice to deny it.”

Darth Mortem hissed angrily.

“You are weak!”

“The Dark Side has no strength or power that the Light doesn’t have. It’s just quicker and easier because it’s selfish and destructive. And by the way, you can call me weak all you want, but you’re an _echo enslaved to a zombie_. You don’t even _exist_ without me.”

Shrieking in rage, the creature attacked him again. No more words, just fast, vicious strikes with both blades. Methos found himself hard-pressed to block the rain of blows. The next moment, however, the wraith dissolved into formless black smoke as a green lightsaber passed through its body.

Qui-Gon Jinn smiled down at Methos. 

“I hope that was cathartic for you,” the long-dead Jedi remarked glibly. “But you really should remember that you’re not alone here, old friend.” 

Before Methos could respond to that, another shadow moved to attack. It, too, was turned to mere smoke a moment later as River slipped through its guard.

“My turn,” she said with a sly smirk at Methos before she continued with her deadly, protective dance around the perimeter they’d formed surrounding Rey. 

Palpatine had redoubled his lightning attack against the girl. He had no saber of his own, and the Jedi were holding back his legion of shadows. A second lightsaber had come to her hand, forming a crossed barrier. The energy crackled, building up to a crescendo, and she threw everything she had, forcing it back on the former Emperor.

There was a massive explosion, and Methos knew no more.

* * *

A massive headache informed Methos that he was not, in fact, dead. It took altogether too long to unstick his gluey eyes and open them properly. 

“ _Ba’buir_!” 

Methos winced at the far-too-enthusiastic volume of Suni’s voice. Fortunately, she seemed to take the hint. 

“Sorry, _ba'buir_. I’m just…” Was that an a bit of a sniffle he heard?

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a headache like this in my entire life,” Methos groaned expressively, slowly reaching one hand up to rub at his forehead as if that would relieve psychic backlash. “And I’ve lived quite a long time, so I know what I'm talking about.”

Suni actually giggled, though it seemed to be covering up a bit of a sob.

“We were so worried about you, _ba’buir_ ,” she said softly. 

Methos realized that he was no longer at the weapons console on the flight deck, but laying on one of the beds in _Par’jila_ ’s medical bay. Suni was sitting in the chair next to him, wispy salt and pepper curls breaking free of the short braid that normally kept them in check.

“I’m guessing I was gone awhile. Anything interesting happen?”

All she could do was laugh. As her laughter faded, she took his hands in hers and squeezed them with great care, as it to reassure her that he was still alive.

"You're leaving again, aren't you?" A question that was not a question.

"I came back because an old troll made a compelling argument when he said the literal fate of the galaxy was at stake," he replied, managing a slight smile through his aching head. "Galaxy's safe again. Suni, I loved being your _ba'buir_. I loved your father and his brothers. But they're all gone now, and your children and all their cousins are near grown themselves."

"I know," she said gently. "Don't think you can sneak away without saying goodbye, though."

"Who, me? Wouldn't dream of it."

**Author's Note:**

> I confess, I felt very, very conflicted about this one, to the point where I wasn't sure I wanted to post it at all. Some of the dialogue comes, obviously, from _The Rise of Skywalker_ \- a movie I know elicited, shall we say, some strong opinions from a lot of fans. I did my best to work Methos into the finale in a way that didn't obviously contradict what canonically happened. (In other words, the Jedi did show up in person as ghosts, they were just invisible to the outside viewer, i.e., the movie-going audience.) If you like this, then fantastic!
> 
> If you are wondering who Suni is, I direct you to ["There Is No Luck, There Is the Force"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7526761/chapters/44915575).


End file.
